A Complete Guide to Rangering: In Dol Amroth
by goldleaves
Summary: The Continued adventures of Hannera, as she faces love, Sauron and Dol Amroth.
1. Chapter 1

A Complete Guide to Rangering

Part 2: In Dol Amroth

_According to Hannera_

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_**How to ... look over your lord**

Over the days that followed, as we waited and waited to see if he would survive, we watched. All of us - never sleeping, his constant companions and we waited. We watched as the King, a man shrouded by so many shadows came to him in the middle of the night, and healed him, and we watched over the next days as kings and lords gathered in the hall to decide what to do.

And we waited.

Our hearts beat in our chests and we wondered what we would do - would we survive this war, would he survive. And even then I kept my love for Faramir, rightful steward of Gondor, hidden.

I knew then it would be best if no one knew that I loved him, others wouldn't understand. Some of my colleagues would - but they would never encourage it. No one could possible encourage a match between a commoner and the steward. Between a commander and his soldier - it was wrong and I knew that I could do nothing about it.

So I waited.

And I watched.

And I looked over him.


	2. Chapter 2

A Complete Guide to Rangering

Part 2: In Dol Amroth

_According to Hannera_

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**How to ... insult a king**

As we waited for news of Faramir, we convened in the gardens of the houses of healing - ignoring the annoyed looks of the healers who looked at our dirty garb and our blood-stained faces and hair - we were rangers, that was all we were. We weren't soldiers with shining armour and great swords - nor were we the riders of Rohan, with their flaxen hair and hearts filled with courage and strength from the barbarian north.

We were rangers, most of us were civilians, nobodies - we had grouped together to protect out homeland - our Ithlien, and to protect the white city from inside the lair of the enemy, and they hated us, and they looked down on us. They didn't even allow us the honour of being called rangers - they said we weren't. It is true in a way, we weren't the battle born grey rangers from the north - we weren't the Dunedain, but we survived and protected our land and our homes because it was ours to protect!

We were still rangers, we still roamed the forest, and killed the enemy before they could reach our front lines - many fine men had died because of this and now the healers, and the people of the white city - the people of Gondor! were refusing to honour them in anyway ... to them we were vagabounds and useless.

To them we were nothing!

In anger, and despair I picked up a small stone and threw it harshly into whatever bush it would land in, not caring that it would probably damage a plant that was needed to save lives - at that time I did not care, but I was glad to see that it in fact missed a bush, and instead landed at a man's foot.

"You carry great anger within you"

I didn't answer - whoever it was, would learn - I don't speak to people, I don't speak to anyone who would look down their noses at me, It was something that I had kept even through my days and years of training and rangering - this stupid sense of pride that gave me far more enemies among the common folk, and the higher nobility, than I should have.

"Why are you here?" he asked, not moving - and I could feel the faint irritation emanating from him - and I didn't care, he didn't know who I was - he only saw a hooded figure, and I would not shake my disguise - someone else would answer his question and silently I lead him towards the glade where the others sat.

I could barely hear his footsteps over the chatter of my companions - so he was a ranger too, or at least trained in the ways of a ranger. I ignored his questioning glance and sat among my comrades.

"Why are you here?" he asked them, and one of them - Philliath - spoke,

"We await the healing of our commander, Lord Faramir"

"Then why do you wait here? and not with your families?"

"Our families are not here, my lord, and what family would take us in? We are rangers - nay we are not, not to the proud people of the white city, to them we are peasants, country-folk who guard Ithlien, and the border of Gondor with only pitchforks and our own stench"

A laugh crept around the group at this description - a self-deprecating laugh, not merriment or cheer we felt, was it any wonder why we preferred being on patrol than reporting to the city?

"That is foul! - for you have guarded these lands for years faithfully - surely you jest?"

No one answered - we didn't jest, and looking at our still forms I guessed he discovered that,

"I would do something to change that! I would do something to ensure that they would always remember you and your troubles! I would -"

"What power have you to change the hearts of the people? What power have you to promise such things" I said, "Why would you care about the troubles we face, we do not seek glory, nay we leave that to the soldiers" a chuckle once more spread among us, "All we seek is honour for our dead, and for the fallen and for those too injured to fight anymore. So I ask you my lord - Why do you think that you can help us?"


	3. Chapter 3

A Complete Guide to Rangering

Part 2: In Dol Amroth

_According to Hannera_

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**How to ... fight against Sauron.**

The host of Rohan and Gondor marched steadily east. There was no dawn, or night, just the overwhelming shadows and darkness that came from the Dark Lord Sauron. We marched and we marched, and I did not weary. Marching with the other rangers I felt a sense of pride; we were alive, and we would fight the armies of Sauron that had, for so long, attacked and destroyed our homes in Ithlien.

We would fight for the chance that in the years after we were not needed, that there would be peace, and that there would be children born in Ithlien once more, and that their children, and their children, would not have to face the dangers of battle, and the overwhelming hatred of the Dark Lord. That they would think of these times as stories created to teach children their manners and to scare them into line.

We were marching for freedom, not for our lives - for we knew there was almost no chance that we would survive this battle, but we marched ahead anyway. At the head of the army were the kings - the kings of Rohan and Gondor, tall and proud warriors; they would lead us to victory and death.

We were ready.


	4. Chapter 4

A Complete Guide to Rangering

Part 2: In Dol Amroth

_According to Hannera_

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**How to ... break your heart.**

I never thought that I would see him smile in such a way - he was happy, with her. I guess this comes with being too close to the patrol, of putting aside any thoughts of femininity in order to fit in. I wasn't a woman to them, I was merely a ranger, just like them. I was dirty, tall, and far too skinny for my frame. My hair was clumped through with dirt and sweat and blood, and my face was ragged from dangers and not enough food.

I was prideful, aye that was true - I could gather enemies like flies swarm to honey - a single glare, an upturned nose and a raised eyebrow was enough to turn anyone against me. But I also heard the whispers, of what the others called me.

'the cold' - aye I was that too, I didn't care for the feelings of others, and I didn't trust easily. I was respected among the rangers because of my skills at tracking and healing, and I respected them for their own skills.

'the compassionate' that was what they also called me. For I would give my own food - hunted down and killed by my own hands - to those who were sick and dying, and to those who needed it more. I would sit by the cots of the dying and sing, or speak, to them - let them have some comfort.

And despite my compassion and my cold, pride filled heart - I was overlooked by him.

By the only one who I wanted to notice me.

But he was happy ... with her, and he loved her. That was plain to see - as was her love for him.

They were happy.

So I turned away, my only wish was to make him happy, and if he was happy with her then so be it, I would not even try to stop it.


	5. Chapter 5

A Complete Guide to Rangering

Part 2: In Dol Amroth

_According to Hannera_

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**How to ... attend a coronation.**

A coronation! A king!

The shadow had lifted and we had a king!

We could barely contain our joy - so momentous and uplifting it was. We had all washed, for it was a joyous momentous celebration and we had to do ourselves, and our lord proud. And for the first time in so many years we were bade to wear civilian clothing. We weren't defending Ithlien anymore in leathers and thin chain mail - but instead we were civilians, Gondorians, celebrating the return of our king in our best.

I couldn't believe the difference it made. Hivon and Hiton were wearing black and white - the colours of Minas Tirth. They had always been identical, but there had been odd quirks in their clothes that we had used to separate them, a stray button here, a tear there. But now they were absolutely identical.

Their light brown hair tinged with red and gold, from many hours in the sun - their green eyes warm and full of silent laughter, and immeasurable awe. It was hard to describe them - only that they shared a glance with the twin sons of Elrond, and the rest of our crew groaned in horror- oh the terror they would make if the four grouped together! Minas Tirith would never be the same!

Ivel wore his darker hair long and braided into warrior plaits, and his clothes were in the colours of Dol Amroth - silver and blue. He was as resplendent as any lord, and more noble. Comparing him to the three princes of Dol Amroth - whom he stood near, he had a natural grace of which they lacked.

Do not get me wrong, the princes were far too much elves for my liking - the way they walked and laughed and spoke and fought was as if they were one of the Eldar, but Ivel just wore his heritage like a familiar, cloak that was held tightly to his neck and embraced him in its soft folds - he was natural and safe within his movement and overall he was quiet but solid in the way that only Ivel could be.

Eomon stood in the rich green and gold of Rohan, his eyes as fierce as any of the riders and his face as proud, but he was far more graceful than they. For he walked through grass so silently and steadily that not a single blade moved. All of his movements were thought out and intentional and perfect.

He wasted no energy, he wasted no time.

And then there was me.

And I felt like the one that stood out the most. Born in Andrast before fleeing to Osgiliath, and to the care of my aunt and uncle after my own parents death. My aunt and uncle that I soon became to regard as my parents. I had a difficult childhood. And though my 'parents' stood somewhere in the crowd in the colours of Osgiliath - of black and green, I had felt the urge to wear the colours which my father and mother would have worn.

Green and red.

And to make them proud, and also to avoid controversy, I was wearing a dress. It had been such a long time since I had worn a dress, let alone one such as fine as this one - my aunt had pulled it from storage, saying that it had been my mothers and that she would have wanted me to wear it.

It was a beautiful dress, but I was not feeling beautiful.

My hair was long and the darkest out of all those in the crew, rivaling even the raven locks of Arwen Undominiel - our future Queen and bride of our new King. And my skin was darker and tanned from the constant hours under the sun, and my own natural colour. In truth I was closer in colour to those of Far Harad than the milky skin tones of the maidens of Minas Tirith or even the tanned skin of the riders of Rohan.

My cheek bones were prominent and I had little fat on my body at all - my shoulders and elbows and knees were almost disgustingly thin - for I had seen the way my aunt had stared at them when I had visited her, and she had admonished me for giving away so much food - but I cared not, because I would have been sick from eating the meat anyway.

I couldn't bare the taste of meat - and so it was the only thing that made living in Ithlien so hard - for there were not much fruits that I could eat in the winter time, and in the summer it was devastated by Orcs and invaders. The few years that I had lived in Andrast had been the easiest for I had lived on an almost steady diet of fish.

I stood out amongst the perfect nobles, and amongst my crew and fellow rangers. But I didn't care for we were being honoured today - just like the stranger had said while we had been sitting in the houses of healing, and funnily that stranger looked like our king. And as if the king had heard my thoughts he turned and looked at me, and I recognised those eyes and I smiled, and I bowed, along with the other rangers.

He had meant what he was saying!

"Long live the King!" we shouted.

Long live the King, indeed.


End file.
